


Drag

by dustyfluorescent



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dancing, F/F, Infidelity, M/M, Musicians, References to Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:52:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyfluorescent/pseuds/dustyfluorescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur plays the piano until he doesn't, Merlin dances because it's the most important thing in his life (but not the only one that matters), and Gwen plays the cello and loves Morgana, except not really, first because she's a bit too gorgeous, and second because she's a violinist and thus kind of beneath her, as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drag

**Author's Note:**

> Rachmaninov: Piano concerto no. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18, I. Moderato

Gwen carries spy novels and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare in her backpack, and wears t-shirts with Calvin and Hobbes, K-9 and Donald Duck on them. She dreams of playing on stage in front of hundreds of people, even though she's too scared to look most of them in the eye. She wears nail polish in weird colours (like Hufflepuff yellow or TARDIS blue), covers her walls with beautiful boys and striking girls, Andy Warhol and Pablo Picasso, movie posters and postcards from friends, photos of her mum, Merlin, and Freya's dog. She glues Doctor Who stickers on her dark blue cello case. Her headphones are green, and she listens to Debussy, Buzzcocks, Mozart, Radiohead, Beethoven, Janis Joplin, Puccini, The Smiths. She mouths the lyrics to both _Liù non regge più, si spezza il cuore_ , and _have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with_. She dances (badly) when she's happy, and smiles to strangers. 

Gwen is a girl with a bright future ahead of her, people say. They say she's a positive, kind, talented girl; full of life, full of dreams. 

She isn't that. She's had her dark times, but she doesn't let it show. She's not the kind of person to let anything show, so she seems carefree and happy and a bit mental. It doesn't really even matter if that's true. So she thinks.

Gwen always has someone in her life whose main job is disturbing her normal life on a deeply emotional level. It used to be Lance. They dated for a bit and it was fine, but in the end he was just too kind - Gwen's never been able to cope with people who are actually good for her. It's Morgana, now. Morgana le Fay. The most beautiful creature to ever have walked on this earth. Half French, dashing smiles, red high heels and long, black, shiny curls that tumble down her back like she's some sort of goddess. Way too beautiful, way too rich, way too talented, way too sharp with her tongue, way too well-loved by way too many people. Kind of selfish and rude. Definitely out of Gwen's league. Also, a violinist. So kind of beneath Gwen, as well. (She says it jokingly, of course, but it does make her feel a little better.)

Gwen is besotted. She thinks it's crazy, and that it's not important, that she should just get over herself already. She has slept with Morgana, once, and that's all it's ever going to be. Merlin doesn't even know that bit, but he keeps saying anything could happen. But then again, Merlin lacks perspective; he thinks Gwen is far more amazing than she actually is. He also doesn't understand how spectacularly gorgeous, unbelievably talented, and wonderfully kind he is himself, and that it actually really is no wonder that he's managed to catch Arthur Pendragon's fancy. 

Merlin is striking, Merlin is wonderful, Merlin is a star. He can't see that. That is a major problem, because he doesn't think he deserves any more from Arthur than what he's getting, which is not a lot, especially when it comes to respect, appreciating someone as a human being, _being_ a decent human being - well, as far as Gwen is aware, anything else but sex, really. Arthur is a complete selfish wanker, and Gwen could punch the bastard most of the time.

Merlin is Gwen's best friend, and about as good at messing up his love life as she is, although that has little to do with his stupid head making bad choices, and a lot to do with the fact that he doesn't think he's worth anything, and that he has horrible luck when it comes to men. Arthur is just about as dreamy as Morgana, his half-sister, and twice as aware of it. He's a smug bastard who treats everybody with no respect, especially Merlin. He's also frighteningly homophobic for someone who really enjoys sucking cock and taking it up the arse. It's not fair on Merlin, and if he had any sense in his stupid head at all, he'd have dumped Arthur ages ago. Instead, he's stupid, noble, and besotted. Merlin doesn't think he deserves Arthur, doesn't think he's good enough for him, actually believes that it's all right for Arthur to keep punishing him for whateverthefuck it is that he's done. _I'm a horrible boyfriend_ , Merlin says, when they sit together on Gwen's bed eating ice cream and watching a movie, while Arthur is out there somewhere, probably drunk as fuck, screwing some girl to prove he's still straight, just to come home and shout abuse at Merlin, _I only ever think of myself_. And Gwen gives him a look, and would like to hit him, but instead just excuses herself, locks herself in the toilet, and kicks the door, swearing, crying. This is her best friend, and he won't listen to her. She's been trying long enough to know. She's giving up, now. She's given up.

They live together, Merlin and Arthur. Just roommates, like Arthur says. Merlin just smiles, looking at his feet, and says nothing. Gwen doesn't like that, because she doesn't trust Arthur, and she doesn't see why she should anymore, not now that she's had Merlin knock on her door in the middle of the night, sporting a black eye, looking at her like he still can't quite believe what has just happened. He hadn't said anything - _you know how clumsy I am_ \- but there really was no need. Gwen can't help but think what's next, when worse things than a black eye happen before Merlin can get away. She says nothing, though.

Either way, Merlin never loses his cheer. Even after a bad night, after trying his hardest to sleep a little on Gwen's couch because he can't bear to listen to Arthur banging a girl from his ballet class in the next room, he gets up bright and early, goes for a jog, does his stretches, and heads for the academy. He never skips a morning practice. He laughs, makes jokes, and gives a neck rub to a girl whose hair smells like Arthur's shampoo. He warms up listening to Lady Gaga, mouthing the lyrics as he goes, just like he always has.

So it's not really an unremarkable Tuesday morning, when they take the bus from Gwen's place to the academy together in silence. Not really, and neither of them should really feel that way, except that this time around it's pretty clear that Merlin didn't have much choice but to leave. He won't say anything, the stupid selfless git, and it's maybe just as well, it's not like Gwen could do anything to help. She tries not to feel nauseous when she looks at Merlin's pale face, the black and purple bruise colouring his left cheekbone, his swollen lip, the dark smudges of exhaustion around his eyes, his forced smile. She's trying very hard not to think about how this is the second time, how this has already happened once before, how Merlin is still going to go home tonight. 

He's doing a good job hiding how sad he is. Merlin's smile only seems forced to Gwen because she knows him so well. She doesn't think anybody else is going to notice how much he's hurting. 

They don't talk, not now, because Gwen knows it'd be too much, that Merlin is thinking about it anyway, and he really doesn't want to. So she just hugs him briefly as they part.

"Hey, it's okay," Merlin whispers in her ear, and Gwen feels bad that he should be looking after her, now.

Merlin heads off to morning practice, and Gwen hogs herself a practice room. She starts out with scales, but she's nervous, she's emotional, and she can't concentrate. She checks the time forty-five minutes later and realises that she has no idea what she's been playing. She groans, digs her music from her bag, applies rosin on her bow - unnecessarily - and starts playing Popper. She really should just concentrate on what she's doing, but she can't stop thinking about what brought Merlin to her door this time. They don't talk about things like that, but it doesn't mean she doesn't care. 

She keeps trying to concentrate, but it's just not her day. After three hours of frustratingly ineffective practising, Gwen goes looking for Merlin, and finds him stretching, eyes closed, headphones on. If he thinks he's done well, it's Arctic Monkeys; if not, then it's Franz Ferdinand. Gwen suspects the latter, because Merlin does not look happy. His face looks worse than it did in the morning.

"Hi," Gwen says. Merlin smiles wryly.

"I almost fell asleep today, I was horrible," he says quietly, not opening his eyes. "I've that jazz workshop later today, and I feel like crap. I don't want to do it today. Any other day, it could have been so good."

He turns the music off, and finally turns to look at Gwen. 

"Arthur is a wanker, so I wanna skip French and go eat chips and gravy with you instead. Also, I'd rather get wasted in the middle of the day than do the jazz thing." He sighs. "Do you have anything important to do?"

"I should practise," Gwen says automatically. It's true, but then again, it always is. She's a music student, after all. There is nothing else she should possibly be doing all day but tell people she should be practising.

"You should always practise. Come on, live a little. Take me out."

"I knew you had a Franz Ferdinand day."

"I often do, these days."

"Nimueh is going to kill you."

"I know that. I don't care. She's a witch, anyway."

"You won't get any better by drinking."

"It will help me care less."

Gwen sighs. 

"Or you could just dump Arthur and concentrate on having a life."

There is a long pause. 

"Gwen," Merlin finally says, serious. "Maybe you don't know everything."

Gwen doesn't want to know what Merlin means, but she doesn't say anything more. Merlin looks away, and changes the subject. 

***

Merlin has always danced. For him, it's easy. When he's dancing, he can stop thinking for a second and just _feel_. He loves losing himself in the movement, and it comes to him naturally. For him, there is nothing in the world that even remotely compares to the overwhelming joy that floods his body and spirit when he dances. He loves giving every bit of his soul on stage while people are watching him. He loves moving, muscles screaming, sweat in his eyes, in extasy. He loves making them feel things by just making them watch him. He loves the idea that he can touch people with something he can do.

After Arthur came along, Merlin hasn't been able to dance like he used to: like it's the only thing that matters. Merlin used to think he would die if he couldn't dance anymore. He still thinks that, in a way, but now, he's ready to give up everything for a man who makes him feel worthless. That he would die because of that seems like a small price to pay.

The thing is, Arthur can also make Merlin feel like he's the most important being in the universe. Merlin is in love for the first time in his life, and he's fairly sure it's going to kill him.

It's raining outside. Arthur is playing Beethoven. Merlin is sitting on the floor at his feet, resting his head on Arthur's thigh, just listening.

"I want a cigarette," he mumbles against Arthur's jeans. 

"You don't smoke anymore," Arthur mutters absently. He doesn't stop playing.

"Quitting was a stupid idea."

Arthur doesn't say anything. Merlin strokes Arthur's calf and closes his eyes.

"You know, Gwen is in love with Morgana."

Arthur laughs at that. His hands fall of the keys and tangle in Merlin's hair. 

"That's never going to happen."

"She thinks so, too. I told her, you never know."

"You should proably listen to Gwen more often."

"She's not always right."

"Is she not?"

Merlin turns to look at Arthur at that. 

"She thinks I'd be better off without you."

Arthur swallows. His eyes are sad. Neither of them says what both are thinking. _She's probably right_. Arthur strokes Merlin's cheek, right where he hit him - _for the second time, Merlin, he did it again even though he said he wouldn't and you believed him, you fool_ \- just a few days ago. The bruise hasn't faded yet, and it's still a bit sore. Merlin doesn't flinch or turn away, but he closes his eyes. 

"You know I love you, right?" Arthur says. His voice is hoarse.

"I know that."

Merlin gets up, kisses Arthur, and looks at him in the eye for a good few seconds before smiling and turning away. He slumps on the sofa and closes his eyes. I trust you, see, he wants to tell Arthur, but doesn't. He can't quite manage that without sounding like a liar.

"Play me the Rachmaninov," he says instead. "I love that."

And Arthur does.

The sex is good that night. Afterwards, Arthur locks himself in his room with a bottle of vodka. Merlin steals Arthur's cigarettes and stays up for a long time, drinking mineral water and smoking in the kitchen, Franz Ferdinand blasting in his ears, subtly telling him, as always, _you are not good enough_.

He doesn't call Gwen. He's fine. She has a million things to worry about anyway.

Merlin worries about Gwen sometimes, mainly because she doesn't. It's not like he has a reason for it ( _and that's just because you refuse to see what's right in front on you, you blind idiot_ ), it's just that Gwen spends a lot of time taking care of Merlin and making sure that he is alright, and she almost never talks about herself. There is an undeniable sadness hidden in every one of her smiles, but Merlin doesn't dare to ask. 

He knows Gwen's mum died when she was small. He knows Gwen's brother left without a word a few years back, and that nobody knows where he is. Gwen doesn't talk about him - hell, Merlin doesn't even know his name. Merlin knows Gwen used to go out with a bloke called Lance, and that it didn't end well, although he has no idea what actually happened. He knows Gwen is possibly very much in love with Morgana, and that it's not going very well, and that's all he knows about that. Merlin knows that Gwen feels everything tenfold, good things and bad alike, even the pains that aren't hers to bear. 

He feels like a bad friend sometimes, because he probably should notice, he probably should ask. Instead, he lets himself be fooled by Gwen's cheery exterior, pretends that everything is fine because it's easier that way. He refuses to notice the long-sleeved days, the sleepless nights, the suicidal amounts of practising (like the time Gwen played for seven hours straight and forgot to drink any water), the times she just doesn't eat.

Merlin hates himself for that. 

Gwen is not the only reason he's been hating himself recently, though. He also hates himself because he's stupid, gullible, emotional, and weak, to name a few. Arthur, basically, is what's wrong with Merlin. (And isn't it just fantastic that Gwen knows everything about that, and he won't even bother to ask how she is most days.) Arthur, how he is what he is, and how Merlin is trying to be everything he possibly can, but how it's never enough. How Arthur will keep running away from him, turning his back on him, and then coming back and telling him how much he loves him, how he needs him. It's not fair. Merlin loves Arthur too much to leave him, although he knows perfectly well that he needs to stay away from Arthur at least as much as he thinks he needs him.

He hates himself because somehow, everything always ends up being about him, when in reality, his situation isn't complicated at all, and crying about it won't make it better. Things aren't easy, but he isn't going to run away, he's decided that already. He loves Arthur, and Arthur loves him. Arthur is scared, and Merlin is not good enough for him. But he isn't taking the easy way out, because life isn't supposed to be easy. He isn't going to run away.

***

For a week now, Gwen has been drinking a lot, smoking even more, and eating too little. She's been playing a lot, but not enjoying it, and her Tuesday afternoon cello lesson was absolutely humiliating. She sounds dull and uninteresting, and she makes a lot of mistakes. It's a routine, and she keeps tripping. She gets through a three-hour orchestra rehearsal by throwing up twice, smoking five cigarettes in a row during the break, and drinking a fucking lot of water. If she didn't love Mussorgsky so much, she'd probably have given up already. Leon looks at her, worried, but says nothing. Gwen grants him a wobbly smile when he wordlessly turns the pages even though it's really her job. 

She pointedly doesn't look at Morgana, and tries very hard not to think about anything. Like the drunken text Morgana sent her last night. Like the way she looks when she comes. Like the way she plays her violin a lot like the way she went down on Gwen; like there is nothing else in the world, and that's just fine. 

Gwen's pining. It's obvious. And then there's the incindent with the lift, and it doesn't help at all. It's Tuesday, a little after noon, and all the practice rooms are taken. Gwen is trying to decide whether she should go for a lone staircase or the toilets, or just find some sort of closet in the basement. She steps in the lift, and it takes her a moment to notice that there's somebody in there already. Morgana, actually. Playing the violin. Paganini. 

The doors close, and the lift starts moving again before she stops playing, and turns to look at Gwen.

"Why didn't you stop it between floors?" Gwen asks, and regrets it immediately. She sounds like an idiot, for heaven's sakes. Morgana smiles. 

"Forgot."

"How do you _forget_ -"

"All right, not so happy to see me, then."

"What -"

Morgana lifts an eyebrow and presses the stop button. She grants Gwen a look - seriously, there is no way someone can imply I've-seen-you-naked like that without actually saying it - and then just. Starts playing again.

"Morgana -"

"Shut up."

"I actually need to practise, you know."

"Me too. I'm not actually here for fun, you know. So shut it, will you."

Paganini. Gwen sighs and sets her cello case on the floor. This could take a while, and she is going to have this conversation now, or they'll never ever have it. 

"What the hell are you doing?"

Morgana sighs and stops playing, and sets her violin in her case that is lying open on the floor against the wall. Gwen can feel her heartbeat accelerating. So she isn't going to pretend this is about anyone's right to practice in the lift anymore. That's good. 

"I'm not doing anything," Morgana says. "You, on the other hand, won't stop staring at me."

"You were a very good fuck," Gwen mutters, and tries very hard not to make it sound like _I love you_. 

"Was I?" She smiles. Gwen doesn't.

"You know you were, you bastard. Anyway, what do you want?"

"Maybe another one of those?"

"Morgana -"

"Why not?"

"No."

"Do you need to tell me something, sweetie?" She steps closer and briefly strokes Gwen's hair. Gwen closes her eyes and tries very hard not to seem too obvious. 

"I really, really don't."

"Yeah?" 

And then Morgana's suddenly very close, and all of the air in the lift disappears, and Gwen finds herself wondering how breathing is supposed to happen, and hasn't she been doing it all her life, and Morgana chuckles and strokes Gwen's ear and kisses her, just out of the blue, like it's something they do, like it's normal. It takes Gwen a moment to catch up with what is actually happening, and when she does, Morgana is stepping away, smiling.

"What the fuck?"

Morgana just shrugs. "What's wrong with having a bit of fun?"

 _You have no idea_ , Gwen just about manages not to say out loud. Instead, she rolls her eyes like none of this is a big deal, and presses the button that gets the lift moving again. She picks up her cello and steps out of the lift, hands still shaking. 

She doesn't want to know or think about what the hell just happened. 

Gwen plays in a broom cupboard in the basement for an hour and a half, with not much brainwork involved. When she leaves, sweaty, cranky, hungry, and tired, she thinks about how this thing with Morgana is going to ruin her, and how she doesn't want to be the girl who let her future slip away from her hands because of love. And it's not really even love, but a cheap imitation, a joke. Her life is getting out of hand, and running into beautiful violinists with long hair and nimble fingers kissing her in lifts is not helping. 

She needs to stop whining and moping. She needs to stop acting like a lovesick puppy. She could be good if she would concentrate. Easier said than done.

All food tastes like sawdust. Gwen spends an awful lot of money on cigarettes, and a worrying amount of time thinking about all the geniuses who lost their mind. 

Gwen avoids Merlin for two days. When he comes over, there's nothing in Gwen's fridge except a bottle of white wine, some butter, and three cans of Irn-Bru. Merlin says nothing. They watch The Godfather, hold hands, and ignore each other's heartaches. 

Merlin stays the night. Gwen smokes a fag by the kitchen window at 3 am. She can hear Merlin crying in his sleep.

***

One night, Merlin finds Arthur shagging Helen, a masters singer, on their sofa. He says nothing, Arthur does nothing, and Merlin walks out, trying his best to forget the look of pure horror on Arthur's face.

That night, as usual, Gwen asks no questions, and Merlin offers no answers. They order in chicken tikka masala, watch Britain's Got Talent, and Merlin wants to kiss Gwen for being such a perfect friend. 

Merlin has a nightmare in which he gives his legs away to be with Arthur, only to find out that Arthur doesn't exist. He wakes up not remembering how to breathe.

The next morning, he sits on the floor, exhausted and on edge, and listens to Gwen play. He's always loved that particular piece, he thinks it's probably Kodály, and it's wonderful. It almost sounds like weeping - actually, it sounds exactly like that. Despair, an attempt at fighting back, then falling apart. Giving up. 

Merlin loves listening to people play. Especially the people he loves, and maybe only them.

Gwen isn't practising (even though she probably should be), just playing. She feels the music, eyes closed, breathing raggedly, every fibre of what it is and could be. Like she's performing, to nobody, just for herself. Like she's trying to avoid talking to Merlin about real stuff by playing instead, but her choice of music tells him more than he's willing to hear.

She stops abruptly, swearing.

"This is shit."

"It's not," Merlin says, meaning it. "When's the recital?"

"Two weeks."

"You'll do fine."

"Not if I don't stop moping, I won't."

"Well you know what to do, then."

"'S not that easy."

Merlin looks at her for a long time, sad smile on his lips. "I know that, love."

"I can't do this anymore."

"Course you can."

Gwen just shrugs, giving up on the argument but refusing to change her stand.

"Let's get fucked," she says.

They do. Three hours later, they are lying on Gwen's bed, drinking champagne straight from the bottle, listening to Tristan and Isolde, smoking, wallowing in their misery like the wretched souls they are. 

"You know, that you like Wagner is probably one of my favourite things about you."

"Why, thank you, Guinevere. It is, indeed, my best asset."

They giggle like schoolgirls. Merlin closes his eyes and tries to breathe. The music almost makes him cry, or at least helps him pretend that's the reason. He's a bit drunk already. He thinks about possibly going clubbing, doing his thing on the dancefloor, and getting off with a hot bloke he never needs to see again. It might be a good idea, but he doesn't want to do that. He wants Arthur. He's been ruined.

"My recital is going to be a complete disaster," Gwen sighs after a while.

"I'm never going to be a dancer, not like this. Arthur has ruined my life."

"He slept with someone else again, then?"

Merlin worries at his bottom lip, and doesn't answer. Helen is beautiful, Helen is talented. They used to do lied together, Helen and Arthur. He wouldn't stop going on and on about how she was going to _go places_ and _do things_. 

"Bet she's good in the sack, as well," Merlin blurts out without thinking. "The best he's ever had."

Gwen doesn't ask.

"I just can't stomach Paganini anymore," she says instead.

After Helen, Merlin hides at Gwen's for two nights before Arthur finally calls. It takes him a total of two seconds to determine that the guy is absolutely wasted.

"What," Merlin mutters, wishing furiously that he doesn't sound as shaken as he feels. His heart is beating a lot faster than can be healthy.

"I'm sorry," Arthur almost sobs, "I'm so sorry, I love you, please don't leave me alone, please -"

"You were hardly alone the last time we met, now were you?" Merlin bites out. He's heard this before, and he knows full well that he'll give in, no matter how completely idiotic that is of him. He always gives in to Arthur. 

That's the real reason Merlin's relationship with Arthur is so shitty. He lets it be that way. Arthur is what he wants, he tells himself he's what he needs, and it doesn't matter what it's like. He'll end up broken inside, more and more so each time Arthur cheats or lies or hits him - Merlin flinches at the thought, he wouldn't, not again - but he can't live without this man, not anymore, not after he's let him get so far under his skin that it feels like destiny, that they're in it for the long run, whether they want to or not, because it's just how things are meant to be. So Merlin will forgive. 

He will forgive, even when he finds Helen in their flat for a second time, sleeping off a notable amount of alcohol and the shag of her life in his own bed. He will forgive, but for now, he will go out and drink way too much and fuck a gorgeous guy just to get back at Arthur (even though he will never know, will never care enough to notice) and go knocking on Gwen's door at three in the morning, wasted and with a pounding headache, feeling inexplicably guilty about what he's done, but refusing to say anything, refusing to let the tears come until he's sure she's fallen asleep. 

***

Merlin is broken. The cheerful, lovely Merlin, who laughs a lot and could just dance and dance and never do anything else and be perfectly happy. Gwen has known that Merlin for years, but she honestly has no idea what to do with this post-Arthur wreck of a man, who doesn't care about anything anymore, who's willing to throw his whole life away for a worthless, selfish man. Rocks fall, everybody dies. Merlin doesn't deserve anything bad, and yet that seems to be all he ever gets. His father who left him before he was born, his mother who thinks he's wasting his life doing what he loves, the man he loves who's too scared to give in and love him back.

Merlin is the kind of person who feels too much and wants everything, but will settle for anything when it's about Arthur. He talks about destiny with a trembling voice, quickly turns it into a joke to avoid weird looks, but the pain in his eyes doesn't ever go away. 

Gwen gets drunk and listens to Korngold, and laughs because of how much it makes her want to cry. How true, a sad song. The song of true love that must die. She wishes she could do something, but Merlin's eyes glow when he talks of Arthur, and he keeps saying he's never been happier. There are good days, and on those days, he is so happy that it almost hurts. He dances like he always has, his passion for the art building an extra layer of beauty to everything he does, painting his movements with gold, captivating, capturing. He was born with it, truly, and when he dances, he becomes alive in a way he never really does otherwise.

But there are bad days. On bad days, Arthur grows distant, or maybe impatient, sometimes angry - at himself, mostly, but it's Merlin who has to suffer the consequences. That's when Gwen hopes she were strong enough to do something, to save his friend who has truly never been more unhappy as he is now.

***

This story does not have a happy ending. There is no closure. It's not Gwen who will be unhappy, though. She and Morgana will never end up together, because Morgana is way out of Gwen's league - so Gwen thinks, at least - and even if they could work things out, they're both too stubborn to do anything about it. That one time they slept together and that one ill-advised kiss in the lift (that could probably have meant something if Gwen had been able to open her eyes and _look_ ) will be all that ever became of them. Gwen gets over this, like people almost always get over unrequited or unlucky love. Gwen will be fine, she will be good, she will be great, and she'll always do what she loves most. Her story is not a sad one, not hers.

People almost always get over unlucky love. Merlin is not one of those people. What happened between him and Arthur will likely always stay a mystery to some extent, because it just doesn't make sense how much he loved a man who didn't care about him enough to walk away, or let him in. Merlin will always talk about destiny, and make it sound like a joke when he realises people don't understand. He will always forgive but never forget, and that's what makes the good times so much worse. Rocks fall, everybody dies, and Merlin would never have deserved a life like this. He keeps going back to Arthur because nobody cares about him enough to tell him that it's gone too far, and that he has to let go. He loves me, he tells himself and others, he wants me to stay, and that won't ever change because nobody wants him more than Arthur does anyway. Maybe it was destiny, in a sense, that that would be how things are in the end. 

Merlin doesn't ever give up dancing - he might as well stop breathing, he says - but even dance loses its magic, stops giving him joy and contentment. It will forever complete him, but what there is to complete grows to be less and less every day. There is only so much he can do for himself. There is only so much he can take before he can't see any worth in himself anymore. Why should he, when nobody else does.

Arthur will never see what he had until he stands by the grave of the love of his life, and it's too late to do anything to help. We all make mistakes, some bigger than the others, some such that they should never be forgiven. For the rest of his life, every time he plays the piano, he sees a familiar shadow in the corner of his eye, feels a warm touch in the nape of his neck, a fleeting scent of familiarity that's gone before he notices it. He doesn't know what it means, but he can't bear it. He steps away from the piano, frightened and guilty, and drinks himself to oblivion, once or twice, and then some. 

Dust gathers, and years drag by. Some mistakes should not be forgiven. Rocks fall, everybody dies. _Why am I still here._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of playlist for this one. Most of these pieces are, at least on some level, referred to in the fic.
> 
> Buzzcocks: Have You Ever Fallen In Love  
> Puccini: Turandot: Signore, ascolta  
> Popper: Etude no. 33  
> Franz Ferdinand: Take Me Out  
> Arctic Monkeys: I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor  
> Lady Gaga: Born This Way  
> Beethoven: Piano sonata no. 8 in E Minor, Op. 13 "Pathétique": III. Rondo  
> Rachmaninov: Op. 3 No. 2 Prelude in C Sharp Minor  
> Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition  
> The Smiths: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out  
> Wagner: Tristan und Isolde: Overture  
> Paganini: Caprice No. 5  
> Kodály: Sonata for Solo Cello Op. 8: Part I  
> Korngold: Die Tote Stadt: Glück das mir verblieb


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